


Room Service

by BugsyPotter



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Horror, One Shot, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22491523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugsyPotter/pseuds/BugsyPotter
Summary: Floor 12.Master suite.Why were you nervous all of a sudden?You sighed. You were always nervous when it came to the uppermost floors. All those rich people were only nice half of the time.Sometimes they gave you creepy vibes.You only liked standing in the halls, because they had cameras.Ding.
Kudos: 7





	Room Service

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt.

It’s not the worst job, they told you.

It’s easy, they said.

“It’s just like fast food, but in a fancy hotel!” your boss explained.

Take the order over the phone, read back what you wrote on your notepad, confirm, pass the order to the kitchen, get the drinks ready, deliver it to their room, and make sure they are satisfied.

Sometimes the guest asks that you leave the food outside and knock on the door.

Those were your favorite customers.

Most the time, the guests inspected the food for what felt like a million years, only to tell you they are allergic to something.

The menu has the ingredients listed.

Why didn’t you say that over the phone; before it was being made?

Occasionally you got tips, which was a bonus.

But you were a kind person. It was often hard to split five dollars among a kitchen full of twelve cooks.

You tried, regardless.

Occasionally, you’d get the big bucks. This wasn’t exactly a cheap hotel. 

The upper suites rarely ordered room service because they always went out to the top end restaurants.

Oh boy, when they did, it was crazy. At least a fifty dollar tip. 

You couldn’t imagine just giving a fifty dollar bill to a complete stranger for simply talking to them on the phone and getting food from them.

Maybe the world was more complex than you thought.

Either way, this was a job. It wasn’t your dream job, but it paid the bills.

You had seen some tragic career paths in your time. You used to work at a call center for a cable company, for fucks sake. 

There was nothing that brought you more heartache than an extremely angry customer screaming in your ear for twenty minutes--for having an extra five dollar charge on their cable bill.

A five dollar charge that happened when they rented a movie.

How do you accidently rent a movie? It asks you like five times if you want to confirm your purchase.

You shook your head at the thought.

You still had to pour the champagne and get the silverware ready. This cart was still pretty empty.

“(Y/N) can you stay a little late tonight? Kelly called out,” Daniel, your manager, asked you as you wheeled your cart into the hall. “She sounded kind of funny. She either had her boyfriend call out for her, or she has one hell of a cold.”

You laughed a little. “Yeah, but I have an exam to cram for, so I can’t stay past nine,” you nodded as you pressed the elevator button.

“No prob, I have Rick coming in at seven to cover the rest of her shift,” he flipped through his phone hurriedly.

“Cool,” you ended the conversation quickly as you entered the giant metal contraption.

Floor 12.

Master suite.

Why were you nervous all of a sudden?

You sighed. You were always nervous when it came to the uppermost floors. All those rich people were only nice half of the time.

Sometimes they gave you creepy vibes.

You only liked standing in the halls, because they had cameras.

Ding.

10th floor.

You saw that it was a man. He had a mask over his mouth and sunglasses. You tried not to stare.

The elevator felt really cramped all of a sudden. The 11th floor button lit up as soon as he pressed it.

“Smells good,” his voice was raspy as he spoke. He seemed to be polite enough.

“Yeah, I wish I wasn’t surrounded by it all the time. Makes me so hungry,” you laughed.

His laugh was sharp, as if it was the most hilarious thing he had ever heard.

“I bet.”

You tried to stand in the corner of the elevator, giving him as much room as possible. 

Customer service above all else, right?

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m out of your hair,” he chuckled. “See you around.”

As he exited the building, you noticed that his pants had a lot of stains on them.

Who was he? You’d never seen such a dirty looking and suspicious person on either of these floors.

Maybe you should call it in? Was that prejudice?

You weren’t security. They’d see him on the cameras.

Maybe he was famous and those pants were designed like that.

You shrugged and let out another breath. 

Time to get this over with.

Not just anyone orders the Antipasto, strawberries, and champagne to share. You were either walking in on a romantic evening, or a celebration.

Both were kind of awkward for you.

Room 1209.

All the way across the hall.

Ugh.

You could feel your hands sweating from unease.

Or maybe it was just warmer up here?

As soon as you had the thought, you heard a thick door open and slam shut from behind you.

You spun around just in time to see the staircase door bounce lightly into place.

A shoulder turned around the corner quickly.

You could feel your heart thump wildly in your chest.

It was nothing, (Y/N). Just someone in a hurry.

You had to get a hold of yourself. 

You were a professional.

If you were going to get a tip for yourself and the crew, you were going to have to be very cheerful.

Smile.

Breathe and smile.

Stopping in place, you closed your eyes, counted to five, and breathed in and out.

It was fine.

You were fine.

No anxiety attacks today.

You stopped in front of the room and lifted a fist to the door.

They hadn’t specified to leave it outside, so you had to stay.

You knocked firmly on the door--

It opened at your touch. Oh no.

“Excuse me?” you hollered just enough to not sound rude.

You could see that the television was on. No porn. Just regular broadcasting. Looked like a reality show from the logo you spotted in the corner.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. The door must not have been closed all the way,” you announced. “This is room service. I have one Antipasto platter, a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque, our finest champagne as requested. Two glasses as well.”

No one answered.

Maybe they were out for the moment?

Protocol says that you take the cart back to the kitchen, leave a note on their door, and wait for another call.

Honestly though, you didn’t want to come back.

This seemed to be a perfect opportunity to just let them know they left their door open and leave the cart inside.

That way, you wouldn’t even have to talk to them!

You’d be quick. In and out. No snooping.

You opened the door a little too rough. It hit the wall.

Wincing, you pushed your cart into the entryway and shut the door behind you as quiet as possible to make up for it.

As soon as you turned around though, you screamed.

It was Kelly! 

“Are you serious?” you screeched. 

She was just laying there, staring at the television like nothing was wrong!

“Kelly! I swear to god, you called out just to prank me? This is a new low. You know that you only have one more strike till you get written up!” you hollered as you opened up the tray.

You didn’t even realize you were doing it. It was muscle memory.

“Kelly, you better explain yourself right now before I just call Daniel and tell him everything,” you turned to face her with your hand on your hip.

She didn’t move. Her eyes were still glued to that fucking television show.

You approached her and sat on the bed.

“Wait, are you here with someone?” you whispered. “Are you pretending not to know me?”

Was she cheating?

She still didn’t answer.

You shook her shoulder lightly.

As soon as you did, you could feel something wet on her back.

She still wasn’t responding.

You began to fear the worst. You couldn’t breathe at that exact moment.

Your chest began to pound against your ribcage. You could feel it in your throat. The sweat on the palm of your hands were seeping on to everything you touched.

Slowly, you pulled her toward you and looked between her and the headboard she had been resting on.

Blood.

She had multiple stab wounds around her spine on each side.

The blood looked like it had been smeared.

She was dragged into this sitting position so it looked like she was watching television.

You let out a horrifying scream.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You tore out of that room as fast as you could.

You knew you should have called Daniel, the cops, or literally anyone on the phone in that room, but you couldn’t.

You couldn’t be near her corpse.

You could feel the tears in your eyes.

Someone had murdered your coworker!

As soon as you entered the stairwell, you were gripped hard by the shoulders and thrown to the wall perpendicular. You could feel your bones hit the concrete. It knocked the wind out of you.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized the man in front of you.

The one from the elevator.

He ripped off his glasses and mask to reveal a horrifying carved grin and burned off eyelids.

You could see too much of his eyeballs. The bright red veins seemed to grip you. You wanted to puke.

“What did you think of my joke?” his laughter was almost a screech. It hurt your ears. “You actually thought she was alive!” he howled. “I got you!”

You felt your body tremble. “W-wh-”

His laughter died. “Oh come on! Don’t play that little scaredy rat schtick. Why can’t anyone just laugh, or say ‘wow, Jeff. She’s so much more pretty!’” his voice rose in rage. “‘Thank you for your service!’” he almost sung in a fake voice. 

He looked at you with those bulging eyes.

Saliva saturated the open gaps of his cheek wounds.

You were paralyzed.

“Say it!” he ordered.

“Thank you!” you squeaked in terror.

He eyes seemed to light up. “Oh my gosh! You’re so welcome, darling! I only live to please!” he giggled. “Now come with me and see the others. They are way better,” he hopped up and down, gripping your wrist like a belt.

The lunatic dragged you down every flight of stairs.

You prayed that at least one of your coworkers were in the stairwell at that moment.

There was no one.

You disappeared from the hotel in a matter of moments.


End file.
